I was five, he was four
by abbbie
Summary: Kurt and Blaine have been inseperable ever since they were five and four. But what happens when they grow older and the desire to experience new things begins?Or more importantly, what happens when neither of them can admit that it's with each other they want to share these experiences? A series of firsts told as flashbacks from Kurt's POV from ages 5-20. Rated M for eventual smut.
1. Prologue

**I was five, he was four.**

** Prologue. **

_I was five, he was four_. It was my first day of kindergarten. Most of the other kids started when they were the latter, but not me. It wasn't because I was a slow child, not because I was unwilling or just too precious to be thrown out into the big, scary world of preschool, nope, not at all. It was much more complicated than that, more complicated than even I could understand. And too be honest? I don't really understand now either.

Then again, who does? Who can ever explain why a loved one dies? Why a four year old kid should have to sit and watch his mom clutching onto his tiny hand, wondering why she wouldn't loosen her grip when he told her she was hurting him. Then something clicks. Your dad stands behind you, picks you up from the huge chair you're drowning in and sits you in his lap, placing his hand just as tightly over the interlaced ones sitting on the hospital bed. You realise that this is nothing. The pressure on your hand as your parents' significantly stronger ones clutch each other's and yours for dear life. It's _nothing. _It's preparation, almost. Preparing you for the rest of your life without your mother, this pain preparing you for _that _pain. A pain much deeper. Watching that one last peaceful tear drop down her cheek, noticing that her grasp loosens, and your dad's tightens, and her chest stops rising and falling and then a huge man comes in, touches her wrist in a weird manner and just.. Nods. From then on, it's you and him - or rather, it's me and dad.

I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm twenty years old and I live in Lima Ohio. My mother, Elizabeth Hummel died when I was four years old if you didn't catch that, leaving me and my dad, Burt. Me and dad? We couldn't be more different. He likes monster truck rallies in Dayton, I like the idea of a bike ride around Paris. He likes burgers and full fat Coke, I like salads and Diet Coke. He likes women and well - I don't. We couldn't _be _ more different, but it works. The juxtapositioning works.

I came out when I was fifteen. Sort of early some would say, but for me? It was so late. So incredibly late. Personally, knowing I liked boys wasn't much of an issue. And that's where this story begins, that realisation, that first boy. And in my case? The only boy. Wow, I sort of side-tracked huh? I do that a lot, you'll get used to it, or you won't - _that _however? Is _not _my problem.


	2. Very pleased to make your accquaintance

Padding inside of what seemed to be a giant room, I looked around tentatively. The first boy there. I had spent a long while choosing my outfit that morning, much to the entertainment of my father. I can hardly remember _what _I wore, but seeing as it was 1999, I can assure you, fashionable as I thought I was, I most definitely was not. Soon enough, kids started to pour into the room, boys, girls, chubby, skinny, small, small - bear in mind that I was a year older and am currently a reasonable height of 5"11', _everyone _was smaller than I was.

Then, all of a sudden, _everything _stopped when _he _walked in. A tanned kid with eyes that looked like caramel apples, small, slightly tubby, and with a head of thick black curls that sort of reminded me of Snow White - or at least what I'm convinced male Snow's hair would look like. I was a pretty shy kid, of course I was, my mom had just disappeared and I didn't know why and _nobody _would tell me why. My dad was still holding my hand, looking carefully down at me, of course not wanting to let me go, but knowing this was our first step. The beginning of the climb ahead.

My eyes were still wide and intrigued, my pupils huge, showing only the tiniest rim of bright blue as I stared at this boy. Then his eyes locked with mine and my heart stopped, causing me to look away quickly because _nobody _wanted to be friends with that old kid who got the stares occasionally. Suddenly, almost without me noticing, the parents were instructed to leave and I was being squeezed tight by my dad - and he'll deny it to this day, but he was _totally _crying. Then I was alone, in a pool of kids that I didn't even know, terrified and lost.

I sat at the swingset, at naptime drinking my juice box, having told the teacher I was way past that stage. A rustling of chains rang beside me and I looked to the side, only to see caramel eyes smiling widely at me, causing me to arch an eyebrow, stilling my swings and ceasing to drink. "You're not napping either?" he asked in a voice smooth and sweet as honey. "Um.. Nope." I mumbled around my straw, biting down on it. "Teacher said I was dis.. Um.. Dis-soup-ting everybody or something because I'm all wriggly.. She said to go out here, so I did! I'm Blaine." he beamed, staring at me and waiting for an answer. "You got a name?" he tilted his head and worried his bottom lip between his baby teeth, still staring, eventually forcing me to give in. "Everybody's got a name, don't they?" I shrugged, taking another sip from my juice and sighing. "My name's Kurt." I whispered like it was some kind of secret and forced my eyes to meet Blaine's. "That's a cool name! Pleased to make your accquaintance, sir." he grinned, holding his hand out to mine, only being met with a giggle on my behalf because _what in the world _? "What?" he asked, pulling his hand back and pouting. "You.. Speak funny." I told him, giggling still. "My mommy told me that when I meet somebody taller than me I should say that.. Unless they're a lady.. Then I say ma'am." he nodded proudly, holding is hand out once again. "You gotta shake it! That means we can be friends!" he explained pushing his hand forward. Having no idea what to do, I shyly extended my own small hand, taking a weak hold of the tips of Blaine's fingers and shaking his hand from side to side, allowing it to be his turn to giggle. "What?" I said in a similar manner to the way he just had. "That's.. Not what I meant. Here, I'll show you!" he chirped and took my hand, pulling me over to the sandbox where he did just that. Blaine Anderson taught me first how to shake another person's hand and that was how I made my very first friend.


End file.
